


...and traces in the air...

by bereft_of_frogs



Series: hard road [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: (/sarcasm), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Frigga (Marvel), BAMF Frigga (Marvel), Gen, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, POV Frigga, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Thor: The Dark World, Prophetic Dreams, Relationship Problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 02:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20520221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bereft_of_frogs/pseuds/bereft_of_frogs
Summary: Frigga learns what has happened since she left Asgard.She is not pleased.





	...and traces in the air...

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of the AU that sprung from a sickfic. I got a lot of requests for Frigga's POV, so here you go! 
> 
> Warning: there is a very small mention of incest, in the context of rumors floating around Asgard. (No matter the actual character of relationship between Thor and Loki, I feel like Asgardians have not-infrequent conversations where they're like '...are they sleeping together? they're sleeping together, right?' They're not in this AU but that's essentially the context, in case you need to avoid.)

When Frigga’s children were just barely grown, she began having a recurring dream, a dream of a baby crying in the distance. The dream always came in that murky space between sleeping and waking, so sometimes she would find herself half out of bed before she remembered her babies were grown, and there were no more infants to care for.

In her opulent bed in the guest chambers on Alfheim, she has one such dream. A baby is crying. She drifts to wakefulness enough to remember where and when she is, enough to smile in fond amusement at the old nostalgia, before drifting back off to sleep.

The next dream takes on the unmistakeable quality of prophecy.

The baby cries, its wails for attention soon turning to desperate, piercing cries of fear and need. Frigga wanders the halls, but the baby is nowhere to be found. She emerges out onto the balcony that overlooks her gardens. There is still no sign of the infant, but there is a great black raven perched on the stone ledge. It looks at her for a long moment. Then, before she can stop it, it spreads its wings and lifts off from the ledge and flies into the dark clouds of a gathering storm.

She wakes just as the first bolt of lightning snakes out from the storm, with the firm and certain knowledge that she must return to Asgard.

Heimdall is waiting for her on the bridge when she emerges from the bifrost. His expression is very grave.

Palace rumors float around her as she walks down the corridor, loose travel dress trailing behind her. The whispers tend to quiet in her wake, but she gets snippets.

Odin is in a blind, violent rage. Both princes have vanished into the night. Thor had been plotting this for unknown reasons, for weeks. Loki had cast a spell on him. They were lovers. They were both plotting against Asgard and planning to sell them all out to Jotunheim. Thor murdered to guards to break his brother out of prison.

The last at least, she knows for sure is false. Loki’s guards are very much alive, recovering from their concussions under lock and key.

She enters their cell, remaining clam and expressionless in the face of their looks of dawning horror. “I am not going to yell. I am not going to rage. I simply want to know what happened.”

The guards fall over themselves to tell their story. By the end, Frigga is anxiously twisting together her fingers, but remains otherwise composed. Her brow furrows. “Tell me of this sickness.”

They exchange a look. “The Allfather believed it to be false,” One says. 

“I’m not asking what the king believes. I am asking for your observations.” 

“If it was a farce,” The other guard says slowly. “It was a very convincing one. And the prince was shockingly committed to the act.” 

“How do you mean?” 

“Even when he believed he was not being watched, he…he raved in the grip of a fever. He was delirious. He cried out for you, ma’am. Later…he could not be woken. When he did wake, he appeared to be in pain, but tried to hide it. And when Prince Thor returned he did not…did not ask him to save him, or to help him escape. He merely asked him to remain…remain to the _end_, your majesty.”

“It could have been a very crafty and lengthy manipulation,” The other guard says quietly, not looking at Frigga. “He could have spun the tale well - laid the foundations long before the night of their escape. He could have known that our testimony would be relied upon, used our presence to remove Prince Thor’s doubts. And even if he was truly ill, he perhaps had lost his mind.” Frigga’s jaw tightens. His fellow looks scandalized, plainly terrified that he was only getting them both into more trouble. “He believed that the Allfather wished him dead - that the king was the one doing the manipulating. An execution, he told the prince.” The guard swallows. “Whatever the truth, your majesty, I hope you do consider all possibilities.” He looks away. “I am quite sure that we were out of our depths. There was…something else going on.” 

The other guard nods. “The prince’s fever dreams were…disturbing, your majesty. I too felt as though there was perhaps something we did not understand.” 

Frigga takes this all under consideration, thanks the guards for their candor, and leaves them. 

She descends deeper into the prisons beneath the palace, finds the cell where her son had been tucked away and that she had been barred from. 

It has not been touched since the breakout. The sheets on the bed are pulled back, in disarray. They’re fresh, the dirty ones piled by the door. There’s a half full jug of water on the table. In the bathroom, the bath still has a bit of water at the bottom of the tub, a towel and comb set on a stool. 

Back in the main cell, she sits for a moment on the bed and closes her eyes. The air is cool, the slippery binding spells making her skin crawl. She examines them thoroughly and concludes there is nothing wrong with the spells. They would not have caused illness, nor would they have allowed Loki to access his magic. There are no breaks or flaws. 

She touches her hand to the dip in the pillow, frowning softly. With the magical quality of the cells, she cannot conjure any sort of vision of the past. But strong emotions leave their own impressions, magical or not. 

She has to bite her cheek against the sudden well of tears. The strength of this emotion is no lie - Loki believed he was dying. Even if he was manipulating his brother, even if some of it was a trick - that he believed he was dying was true. 

Frigga must leave the cell. It can tell her no more and it is quickly becoming too painful to remain. She stuffs down the tears.

By the time she arrives at the great oak doors, a headache is forming behind her eyes. She cannot put off this conversation any longer, but she permits herself a quiet moment to compose herself in the hall before entering. 

She, yes, does not yet know the truth of her sons’ flight and the circumstances around it. But deep in her heart she can feel her child’s suffering and it pains her that she had not been there. If it is all true, her baby - the precious, dark, frightening, clever chosen child, who she had taught her magic and her skills, who had been part of her heart since the moment she had taken him from Odin’s arms - had been dying and she had not been there to save him, or guide her eldest in how to care for him. And now, they were alone, in the wind, far beyond her reach. 

She takes a deep breath and enters her husband’s private study. 

Odin does not look up when she enters. His back is to the door and he is bent over maps of the surrounding townships. The door clicks softly shut behind her. 

“Track them with magic,” He commands, without raising his head. His voice broaches no argument, sending stubborn fury rising in Frigga’s chest. 

“You know that will not work, not any better than the trackers you have already set after them.” Her voice is low but firm. “And I will not be party to hunting our children like beasts, or criminals-” 

“That is what they are.” Odin turns, snapping at her. “Because that sorcerer-”

“How dare you.” Her voice trembles. Her chest is heaving with the effort to control her temper. “‘That sorcerer’ is your _son_, your son who you locked away without a thought, for not the first time-” 

“Have you only returned to throw that in my face? You scarcely let a century pass without-” 

“I am not here to discuss Hela, or the past. I am here to discuss our sons. A conversation which I assume you wish to keep civil and centered on the subject of returning our children alive and unharmed. Unless the worst of the rumors are true and you _did_ deliberately withhold care in order to rid yourself of a public embarrassment without directly confronting the matter.” 

Odin turns away. “That fanciful tale, that _spell_ that Loki wove around Thor, so you believe it now too? Even you have no faith left in me?” 

“Why were you so quick to condemn the illness as false? When you never saw him, when you never went down to his cell?” 

“The symptoms matched mage-sickness perfectly, which Loki would have well known. But such an illness is impossible in the cells, you know that. The only explanation is feigned illness, to win over Thor’s sympathies, to lull the guards into a false sense of security, to soften his resolve and create an opportunity to escape - which he _has_ done!” 

“His guards-”

“His guards are fools!”

“You are a fool!” She spits back. Odin takes a step back as if struck. “You only see what you want, and nothing else. You convinced yourself that Loki was lying, convinced yourself that he was nothing more than a manipulative snake, because you didn’t want to admit that you might be wrong, that he might truly be ill.”

“He is not a wilting flower, not some frail waif, he is not a _child_ anymore. He invaded a peaceful realm, he betrayed us, he tried to kill Thor, if you recall-”

“Could he not have have equally done wrong and equally needed care?” Frigga scoffs. “This is the way you’ve always been. You reject, cast away, when you feel wronged by someone but are too cowardly to directly confront-”

“I will not be maligned like this in my own house! If you are not going to aid me in finding them and bringing them _back_, be gone!” Frigga doesn’t move, just keeps her eyes on her husband and her feet firmly planted, and Odin sighs. “You did not see him when he was brought before me in chains.” There is a tired, resigned pain in his voice. “He was a mad thing. Your son is dead. I do not trust what remains.” 

“If he was mad, then _why?_ What happened then, to the child we raised? What happened to him, to turn him into the one who emerged from the portal on Midgard? We have no answers, husband, and you acted without thought, or compassion, before attempting to understand.” 

“I thought if we left him alone for a while…the madness would perhaps ease. Or he would be worn down by time, and be more willing to talk.” 

“So this was an interrogation technique, is _that _the truth of it?” She clenches her fists, shaking hard.

Odin winces. “That is not-” 

“You don’t even hear yourself, do you?” Frigga laughs bitterly. “By the Norns. You hadn’t even considered that’s what you were doing until I said it, did you?” 

He sighs. “You’re right. I had not considered it, just as I had not considered that it would look as if I was intentionally allowing him to die. I was not, I swear it, Frigga. If I had truly believed that he was ill, I would have sent the healers, just as I would have done for any other prisoner in our custody. I still do not believe he was truly ill. There is simply no way. There has been no other reports of ill sorcerers, and Loki was exceptionally strong and well-trained, you saw to that yourself. So how could he have been made ill by the bonds on the cells, it is _impossible_…” Though he is still not admitting that he had been wrong, there is at last the tiniest bit of doubt in his voice. 

“We don’t know,” Frigga says as an accusation. “And we have currently lost the chance to ask.” When Odin does not respond, she continues. “Thor did not report any wounds aside from the bruises caused by the mortal beast. He too reported that Loki was much changed, and also that he did not use much magic during the fight. But we have not encountered a sorcerer who has ever survived the Void. Whatever injury to his make, it must have happened _there_. He did not say-”

Odin keeps his gaze level on her. “He said nothing of the Void.” 

Frigga sees the obfuscation in a moment. He is not doing much to hide it and the guilt is obvious in his eyes. “Did you ask him?” She asks, a challenge. 

“No.” 

Frigga nods. “I will be sleeping in the guest chambers in the tower. Send for me if you hear any word.” 

Before she turns to go, she watches Odin sit heavily down in his chair, looking ancient. For a moment she nearly relents, but then recalls the scene in the cell, the ghosts of feeling that she had detected. She hardens herself and leaves him alone. 

A night stewing in his own guilt and reservations will hopefully return her husband to his senses. In the meantime, she sets off to plot her own course, and find a way to open communications with her wayward children.

**Author's Note:**

> Frigga is Displeased. 
> 
> Today is also Frigga Day for me apparently, since I posted that other fic with Frigga earlier. She deserves it. :-) Like I said, I got a lot of request for Frigga's perspective, so while I'm not going to individually tag, know that I seriously appreciate each and every one of the comments and requests! And this is for all of you!
> 
> I have a couple other ideas for this universe (including an Outsider POV, and *gasp* fluff?), just kind of plodding along with it. Don't worry, I'm still working on the Big Project (the Endgame AU that I will finish if it kills me) but these have served as a nice break between writing the Worst Draft of that fic. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments/Kudos/Shares/Frogs always appreciated! <3 
> 
> Find me on [tumblr @bereft-of-frogs](https://bereft-of-frogs.tumblr.com/) and [twitter @bereft_of_frogs](https://twitter.com/bereft_of_frogs).


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